


The Score

by satiredichotomy



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-04
Updated: 2006-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-08 11:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12863874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satiredichotomy/pseuds/satiredichotomy
Summary: He wanted to bring his cat.





	The Score

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. Written for the Personal Item challenge on sga_flashfic.

Rodney lay in his bed, examining his quarters. He couldn't stop the smile that appeared when he turned the lights on with his gene. Drab white walls, few furnishings. The room lay bare and empty without any personal décor. His smile faded away with the lights.

It usually didn't bother him, because he didn't spend much time there. Atlantis provided such an embarrassment of riches that he would inevitably be either immersed in the labs or working in the command center, toiling away to solve her mysteries. His quarters were only for sleeping and showering. Rodney was usually so exhausted that he would fall asleep immediately at night and still be half-asleep when he stumbled out of the shower the next morning.

In fact, this was the first time that he spared his quarters more than a passing glance. That was mainly because Beckett had forced him to stay in the infirmary after he saved them all from the shadow entity that was trapped in Atlantis. Then, Elizabeth had removed him from duty for a few days to recover. (She'd called it "some leave" like it was a good thing but he was obviously going to ignore that decree tomorrow and go into the lab anyway, if only to sit around like Sheppard and show off what his shiny new gene could do. _Ha!_ )

All in all, that meant he had had a very boring day that consisted of resting a lot. And now that it was actually time for sleep, he couldn't.

It was times like these that made him miss his cat. Now there was a true companion. Rodney had fought hard to bring him along as his personal item. There was something comforting about having a cat to greet you at the end of the day. He didn't moan at him, never disagreed with his theories and was always happy to see him.

But of course, they objected to bringing a cat to Atlantis, even after Rodney tried to highlight the scientific benefits by suggesting that they bring a vet along with the intent of studying the effects of intergalactic travel on animals. Instead, they laughed and muttered nonsense about how that really wasn't what they were going to Atlantis for.

Only the military would be so obtuse. With Elizabeth Weir in charge of the expedition, weapons might be found but it certainly wouldn't be the be-all and end-all of the mission.

Then again, when he had asked Elizabeth, she just gave him the typical "you're a brilliant scientist so I'll forgive your eclectic tendencies and _of course_ you have a cat" look and referred him to the military idiots who were in charge of 'packing' for the trip. He'd considering smuggling his cat along anyway - he was a genius, he'd find a way - but then he thought of the million and one ways he could get sick and die without a proper vet around and decided it would be safer for everyone concerned if he stayed back on Earth.

So, Rodney had to find another personal item to take along. He wasn't stupid enough to consider physically carrying books or movies. Besides, his team in Antarctica had already held top-secret discussions over who would take what on their laptops. No point in messing with a good thing.

He'd considered taking something sentimental when he dredged up old photo albums from his childhood. But photos could tell lies as well as stories and the seemingly perfect images of his sister and himself with their parents only made him angry.

Family wasn't that important, anyway.

As the time to leave got closer and closer and he still hadn't found anything that he really wanted to take with him, he started to panic. Anything vaguely technical would be going as standard. He'd filled up his allocated space of clothing. Elizabeth had assured him that enough coffee would be taken along and informed him that he wasn't the first to ask.

In the end, he gave up. There simply wasn't anything grand or meaningful that he wanted to take along. In the week leading up to the mission, he found himself grabbing everything from a passport-sized picture of his cat to pocket-size packs of tissues (there would undoubtedly be something that he was allergic to on the other side) to the old keyring that he'd gotten while at university which still made him laugh (would there be locks and keys in other galaxies?).

Rodney had never been much of a packrat before, but now he couldn't stop. He wanted something to remember everything by. He didn't care to declare the minute objects as personal items, but instead hid them in the pockets of the clothes already packed.

On the last day, he looked through his closet for any last-minute items, moving onto the drawers of his night table and then under his bed. And in that last place, he saw a book of Tchaikovsky Piano Concertos peeking out from beneath a pile of papers and magazines. Too big to hide in a pocket, but just the right size for a personal item.

After all, if the Ancients had instruments then they'd need something to play on them.

END


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